


Heaven Is A Place On Earth

by ebenflo



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Harry Hart Lives, Hartwin, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Movie, Reunions, Sci-Fi, Second Chances, Sequel What Sequel, Sorry Not Sorry, What Have I Done, all the feels, messing with reality, messing with time, so many feels, sorta...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenflo/pseuds/ebenflo
Summary: Eggsy finds Harry again. And again. And again.





	Heaven Is A Place On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Short multi-chapter fic inspired by a particular episode of television that I will credit duly at the fic's completion. Telling you too much now would potentially ruin the surprise, though the craftier members out there will probably spot the twist a mile away (I hope you enjoy it anyway).

**2018**

The first time they meet after, well…Harry’s “exaggerated demise”, Eggsy has just come off the back of an eight day mission. After going one-for-one with a Columbian cartel, Eggsy feels for the first time like he’s the same age as Harry. His mind and spirit are exhausted, even though his outward appearance is maintained and to the eye of the beholder he bears no physical scars. Nothing to indicate the bullet that grazed his rib cage, the pummelling blows he took to his flank, resulting in the near destruction of his left kidney and what will become two weeks of haematuria. His suit is as crisp, his shoes as polished and his hair as coifed as ever. The chav from the Estates gone, replaced by the dapper young gentleman meeting his polished older gentleman friend for an afternoon stroll. Just two casual travellers in a sea of hundreds alike.

They meet in Majorca. Eggsy isn’t sure why the scorching beaches of Spain and not some rainy London flat but the setting for their reunion is Harry's personal choice and Eggsy can merely comply. If there is a reason for it Eggsy doesn't ask and Harry never tells. At any rate, Eggsy cares little for the whys and hows. Harry is here and now, and Eggsy can barely breathe for fear of slipping out of his own skin at the thrill of seeing him. And it IS Eggsy who is the first to spot his companion before the latter spies him. Harry has his back turned from the crowds, lean hands bracing against a balustrade as he faces the sun-dappled water. Dressed in simple khakis and a white button down, he is healthy and whole, and so alive. Eggsy’s greeting chokes in his throat. He takes in the measure of Harry, drinks his fill of the sight of the man before him, a sight he never thought he would have the pleasure of seeing again. Every forbidden thought he may have had before about his saviour and mentor come back now unbidden, ten-fold and stronger still for the weeks and months that separate them. The lush length of Harry’s throat. The tininess of his waist and the elongated expanse of his legs. Eggsy drinks this in like a parched man stumbling upon a burbling brook. The setting sun picks up copper and bronze glints in Harry’s graying chestnut curls that taper against the nape of his neck. He is art and poetry, Eggsy thinks with a strangled laugh at his own ridiculous sappiness. He is _everything_.

As if by sense Harry turns, the corners of his thin lips upturned in a Mona Lisa smile that betrays everything and nothing. Eggsy's heart hurtles somewhere upwards and outwards, lodging seemingly in the outlet of his stomach.

"Eggsy."

Eggsy will later wish he had hurled himself at the man, burying himself so tightly in his arms that nothing will ever pry him away again. But they are gentlemen. This is no time for theatrics. And this simply is not how it happens. Instead, he stumbles forward on legs as tremulous as an infant fawn's. His sweaty palms stay by his sides, clumsy arms forgetting how they should move when one is in motion. His mouth cotton-dry. His tie a vice around his throat.

"Harry."

His voice trembles, incredulous, as if he can't quite believe that they are both here in this time that is past, present and future. An opportunity Eggsy never thought he would be afforded. The few feet that remain between them somehow seem to stretch and gape like a chasm. The air smells like saltwater and baked bread wafting over from the restaurants that dot the coastline behind them. An old woman shuffles past them, her hands moving and shifting in silent conversation. Time moves in ebbing waves and Eggsy wonders how long he's been in this place. Is it ten minutes or ten hours? His head feels full.

"My dear boy."

It is the _dear boy_ that breaks him. He lets out a choked sound that falls somewhere between disbelief and wounded. Somewhere in the past he hears the roar of a bullet barelling towards Harry, hears his own startled cry as the bullet connects with Harry. Feels the pain like it was his own as he watches from thousands of miles away as Harry falls and falls...

"You're here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," Harry remarks simply, as if he had popped out for milk and bread. He blinks pleasantly at Eggsy from behind a pair of elegant black frames that aren't Kingsman issue, Eggsy notes this last part with a small measure of distress.

"I feel like this is just happening in my head." Eggsy pinches his arm and winces for his efforts.

Harry laughs, a merry sound that reverberates around him. He nods thoughtfully, regarding Eggsy with a familiar fondness.

"Perhaps...but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

Eggsy lets out a low hiss, like he can't believe Harry would be pulling these sorts of puns at a time like this.

"Don't you go quoting Harry Potter to me old man."

Harry laughs again and that's twice now, twice more than Eggsy has ever heard him ever really laugh before. How curious.

"Are we going to stand around all day, or are you going to let me buy you a drink?" Harry teases, his voice joyous and buoyant. There is a relaxed sag to his shoulders Eggsy has never seen before. Everything about this place, this Harry, is new to him. When Eggsy takes another faltering step Harry holds out his hand, and with a graceless noise that is both laughing and sobbing, Eggsy Unwin falls into the warm embrace of Harry Hart's chest. Eggsy clings to him shamelessly. Harry's biceps are solid and warm beneath his hands. The very scent of him, of verdivert and tea fills Eggsy with life. The world slowly rocks and spins to a halt until there is only the two of them. Eggsy is not sure when the sun actually set but it is suddenly evening and firelight flickers from torches lining the walk, throwing Harry's face into the most beautiful symphony of light and shadow. The lines and edges of his face strike Eggsy as a startling map of all the experience and memory that forms Harry Hart.

"Dear boy," Harry murmurs, pressing his hand against the back of Eggsy's scalp, scritching his finger tips through the short hairs tickling the sun-warmed nape of Eggsy's neck.

"Thought you were gone 'arry," Eggsy chokes. "I woke on the plane after all the stuff on the Mountain, and you weren't there. I needed you."

He knows how awfully juvenile and needy it must sound but it's the truth, swear down. When the adrenaline faded, replaced with shaking hands and a horrible emptiness, it weren't Roxy's murmured comfort or Merlin's reassuring brogue he needed. It was Harry, always and only ever Harry.

"I'm so sorry," Harry rues with a truly repentant sorrow seeping through his apology. I'm here now. I'm here."


End file.
